Favours
by InSilva
Summary: Post-O13. Helping friends means asking friends for help. Luckily for Livingston, those friends are Danny and Rusty. Oneshot.


Favours by InSilva

Disclaimer: do not own O11.

Summary: Post-O13. Helping friends means asking friends for help. Luckily for Livingston, those friends are Danny and Rusty. Oneshot.

A/N: for otherhawk - happy birthday, mate! This was started for your birthday in 2013 so thought I'd better finish it off. :)

A/N: Thanks to otherhawk for the "S'better than the alternative" line.

* * *

Lori Powers was, in Livingston's book, a nice girl. He'd met her in college where they were doing slightly different courses that overlapped and that meant they shared some lectures and coursework. Lori was reserved and quietly spoken and just a little nervous and Livingston had liked her at once. Not that there was anything like _that_ between them. They were friends and they both liked each other too much to risk anything further.

After college, they'd kept in touch on and off and even though Lori didn't have a clue about the illegal, it didn't stop them still meeting up for coffee when Livingston's itinerary allowed. And when Lori met Arthur, Livingston followed the romance via phone calls, postcards, Christmas cards and eventually the wedding invite.

Now it was six years after the marriage and Livingston had been in the neighbourhood and called in to see them. Somehow the conversation had strayed into dangerous waters and he was sat on the couch in Lori's front room, awkwardly clutching a cup of coffee and watching Lori holding Arthur's hand, trying not to cry.

"It's just luck of the draw," Arthur was saying softly. "Just the way of things."

"Some women aren't meant to be moms," Lori added in a whisper.

"Well," Arthur pressed her hand to his lips, "some men aren't meant to be dads."

And that was where the problem lay, Lori explained haltingly. They'd tried for so long and then they'd gone to find out what was wrong. They'd heard _poor motility_ and _low count_ and they'd listened numbly to the doctors explaining that the likelihood of them conceiving naturally was so remote as to be in another galaxy.

Livingston looked at the pain in Lori's eyes and the pain in Arthur's that he wasn't able to give his wife the one thing in the world that she wanted. Blushing furiously, he'd offered to…to. And she'd laughed and cried and hugged him and told him no. That it would be way too weird.

Right. That would be way too weird but this…this was somehow perfectly fine.

He stared down at the glossy leaflet with the innocuous web address and listened with half an ear to Lori explaining that the waiting lists for adoption were frighteningly long and that they were too old for official IVF treatment but that there were organisations out there which were happy to assist.

Sure there were. Livingston's mouth tightened.

Distracted, he'd said his goodnights and goodbyes and wandered back to his hotel room still in a daze. He wanted to help them so badly. He could give them money though he doubted they would accept but what they really wanted was not to be found in a bank account. Livingston had serious qualms about whether the people running the website were similarly motivated. He hoped he was wrong. The least he could do was try and check them out. He fired up his laptop and punched in the url.

The front pages were all soft focus and non-committal. Nothing about handing over desperate cash for a shot at happiness. Everything else that the website offered was tucked away under a strict members' only lockdown. Well, he _could_ become a member. Or he could just tweak that level of code here…that little string of digits there…

He was in. And it was effectively an online catalogue. It didn't actually say " _Choose your sperm donor"_ but it might as well have done. Photo after photo of good-looking, smartly-dressed men. All races, all types. Livingston clicked through to the next page in wonder. There were hundreds of donors. Maybe this was genuine after all. He clicked again and stopped, blinking.

This was…

"…unexpected," he said to no one.

* * *

"So where's Isabel?" Danny asked, walking into the suite at the Standard.

Rusty dropped his keys on the side. "Out of town. Weekend seminar on _Being Vocal in a Man's World_."

Danny frowned. "Wouldn't have thought she had a problem with that."

Rusty smiled as he headed for the mini-bar. "That's what I said. She told me she didn't think she had a problem either but she wanted to help her father."

Danny blinked at the non-sequitur.

"Did that too," Rusty nodded, throwing him a can of soda. "Then she explained Kelly Collins was attending."

 _Oh, you're just enjoying it now._

"Kelly's married to Gary Collins, international businessman, international embezzler and, since he came out of retirement, Le Marc's next mark. If Isabel wants to get the dope on Gary, she needs to become Kelly's new best friend."

 _Well, that makes…_

 _Yeah._

"So…Tess?" Rusty asked, cracking open a Coke.

"Wanted to be on her own to paint," Danny said with fondness. "She's gone to the beach house. Thought I'd swing by here and then swing by there."

"Sounds like a plan." Rusty sipped the Coke and the smile was mutual and uninhibited. Gone was the non-stop of the con and the highs and the lows and the life and death and the fun on the run. Time together was a real treat.

"Pizza."

"Ice-cream."

"Whisky."

"Movies."

Rusty's cellphone rang, breaking the moment. He checked the number and raised a thoughtful eyebrow.

"Hey."

"Hi, Rusty." Livingston sounded preoccupied. "Are you in?"

"Yes…" Rusty said, frowning.

"Good. Good."

The distraction was still there and the frown grew deeper. There was always a certain level of agitation to be expected with Livingston but this was…

"Are you-are you on your own?"

"No, Danny's with me."

"Danny? Oh, _good_." The relief was almost palpable but it was gone in a moment. "I need to talk to you. To both of you."

"Livingston, are you OK?"

Livingston didn't answer the question. Instead, he said, "I'm in the lobby."

There was really only one thing to say to that. With just the slightest of sighs as pizzaice-creamwhiskymovies moved just that little bit further away, Rusty said it.

"Come on up."

Livingston arrived in a rush, clutching a laptop and he sat down on the couch and gratefully accepted the mineral water from Danny.

"Livingston," Rusty acknowledged. "How can we help?"

Livingston took a deep breath, nodded to himself and then began.

"There's a girl. No. Not like that," he added hastily before either of them could comment.

"OK, OK," Danny said reassuringly. "Just take your time and explain."

"She's a nice girl. And she's married to a nice guy and they can't have kids. They'd be wonderful parents and it's…anyway." Livingston took a gulp of the water. "They're going to try this website."

He fired up the laptop and Rusty and Danny moved to either side of him to look at the screen.

" _Alaric Donnelly Life Solutions Clinic_ ," Rusty read out loud.

"Yeah. And I wanted to know if it's-"

"-sound. Of course you do," Danny nodded.

"Of course," Rusty echoed.

Livingston looked from one to the other. "Well?"

 _What does he-_

 _No idea._

"Livingston, why would we know?" Danny asked.

Livingston looked from one to the other and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times and then he went unexpectedly pink.

"I thought…I mean, I wasn't _completely_ sure but it seemed possible. I mean if you believed…I could understand…and I thought if you thought…then it would be OK…"

"Livingston," Rusty interrupted gently. "What are you talking about?"

Livingston bent over the keyboard and punched some keys. "This is the members' only area," he explained and then sat back and let them read the screen.

There was a long, unblinking pause.

"That's…"

"That is."

"We…"

"Oh, we would have remembered. However-"

"-drunk." Rusty nodded. "Livingston, those are our photos but we haven't ever-"

"- _ever._ "

Livingston was scarlet.

"You were called Charles," he said to Rusty with a hint of defensive explanation. "And that's your middle name."

"Danny's called Joel," Rusty pointed out helpfully, "and he hasn't got a middle name."

They all looked again at the photos.

"Ew," Livingston said with a shudder.

"Yeah."

"'xactly," Danny nodded. "Well, I think we've established that the site's not genuine."

Someone had misappropriated their images in a less than tasteful way.

"I'm sorry," Livingston stammered. "I mean I was surprised but I thought maybe there was a reason."

"S'OK," Rusty assured him and gave a resigned sigh. "And the reason's obvious."

It was. Good looks sold.

 _I think-_

 _We want to do something about this._

 _Yeah._

"Any idea when these were taken?" Danny stared at the photos.

Rusty made a non-committal noise. "Not too recently. I haven't worn that suit in two years. And your hair's younger."

Danny gave him a look and Rusty shrugged. "Well, it is."

Danny decided to ignore him. "Livingston, can you-"

"Sure...well…I can try." Livingston's fingers started to fly across the keys again and then he stopped. "This might take a little time."

"Let's get some pizza in," Danny suggested.

"And-"

"And ice-cream," Danny added.

Always ice-cream.

Rusty glanced over at Danny. "Guess we know what we're doing with our weekend."

* * *

Less than an hour later and all three of them were looking at two extrapolated photos.

Livingston was squinting at the photo of Danny. "Is that…is that the Bank? In the background?"

They squinted with him.

"Possibly," Rusty said, his voice laced with doubt.

"Give me a moment."

Livingston opened up a separate programme with 360 degree street view and after a moment's manipulation, he dropped the photograph into it. Within moments, the tower of Willy Bank's bankrupted casino was evident.

"And that means you were standing…here."

Right beside the Bellagio.

Rusty's eyebrows raised. "And I'm stood there too."

Livingston checked. "Yes. You are."

Rusty turned to Danny. "The Bank Job. Blueprints."

"Relationships," Danny agreed. "Hidden camera."

"Triggered remotely."

"Right."

"They'd have to be close by." Rusty turned to Livingston. "Can you work backwards from the site? Find out where it's housed?"

"Already on it."

* * *

"The IP's buried but I've bounced it through a couple of trackers. There's a whole mess of transactions I haven't got sight of yet but the recent administrative buzz is coming from a suite at the Mirage," Livingston declared just as Rusty finished his second bowl of Rocky Road.

"The Mirage?" Danny checked.

"That's one of Terry Benedict's places," Rusty supplied unnecessarily.

"You think he knows?"

"You think he's behind it?" Livingston's voice went up an octave.

Rusty and Danny looked at one another thoughtfully for a long moment and then gave a simultaneous shake of their heads.

"Not Terry's style."

"Doubt he's even aware," Rusty added. "Terry wouldn't let something like this go down at his premises."

"Terry doesn't approve of wrongdoing."

"Well, not when he's not doing the wrong."

Livingston blinked as he worked his way through that sentence.

"Guess we're going on a roadtrip," Rusty said softly and his eyes were shining.

 _Feels like old times._

The twinkle was bright in Danny's eyes too.

* * *

They couldn't visit Vegas and not look in on Reuben at the Midas and Reuben welcomed the three of them with open arms.

"Food, drinks and the best rooms in the joint," Reuben beamed. "Don't even think of telling me you're staying somewhere else."

"We've not even thought of it," Danny assured him.

"You want to tell me why you're in town?" Reuben asked and his eyes were alight with the usual fire of curiosity.

"Someone's been infringing our moral copyright," Danny said.

"And we don't like our morals being infringed," Rusty added, watching Livingston firing up his laptop.

"This to do with Benedict?" Reuben asked giving them both a shrewd look.

Danny shook his head. "Not this time."

Rusty smiled happily. "Managed to avoid it."

"OK." Reuben looked reassured. "You need any help, you let me know."

* * *

According to the computer register that Livingston had accessed, the suite at the Mirage belonged to one Drew Honeywell, a resident highroller.

"Looks like he moved in about four years ago."

Livingston sat in Danny's room, Danny beside him and Rusty leaning over the back of the couch. Livingston scanned the records on his laptop.

"There are blocks of absence…no real pattern…three months or so at a time. He keeps the payment up to date."

Rusty threw a handful of peanuts into his mouth. "That's all the Mirage'll be bothered about."

Danny straightened up.

"OK. First task-"

"-reconnaissance," Livingston finished.

Danny looked at him. Rusty gave a soft laugh.

"Isn't it?" Livingston asked worriedly as if he'd misremembered. "It usually is."

"Yes," Danny said eventually. "Reconnaissance. Rusty and I'll take care of that. Whilst we're doing that, we need you to track down all that hidden activity."

"Map it out so we've got the full picture," Rusty added. "You can tell us about it over dinner."

Livingston nodded, gathering his laptop together and disappearing.

Danny watched the door close behind him.

"Am I really that-"

"No," Rusty told him cheerfully.

Danny shot him a dark glance.

"Yes and no," Rusty qualified, relenting. "Those who know you, know you. Those who've worked with you before listen to what you say and remember it. Everyone else has a big surprise coming."

 _Suppose._

"I'm getting old," Danny said morosely.

Rusty had no patience with the morose.

"S'better than the alternative," he suggested, moving round the couch and heading to the door. "Come on, Grandpa, let's get observing. Long as you feel up to it."

Danny threw a well-aimed cushion at him by way of answer.

* * *

"You think we should be in disguise?" Danny mooted as they stared up at the front of the Mirage. "We should be in disguise, right?"

"You don't do disguise."

"We walk into a hotel run by Terry Benedict, it's an even bet that he'll want to discuss what we're doing there. Especially after the last time. Or the other time."

"Or any time," Rusty pointed out.

"He's probably got us red-flagged from the minute we cross into Nevada."

"You still don't get to wear a moustache."

A far-off look came into Danny's eyes. "We need to go invisible."

"Like Claude Rains?" Rusty looked interested. "Being bandaged from head to toe doesn't exactly scream _don't look at me_ , you know."

Danny grinned. "Less Claude Rains, more -"

"Excuse me, gentlemen."

They turned as one to find large men-filled suits behind them. Suits that looked like they didn't often have to repeat themselves.

"Mr Benedict would like to see you."

 _Well, of course he does._

Danny shook his head ruefully as they headed into the Mirage. "I was joking about the red flag starting at the state border," he muttered.

Rusty turned round and smiled cheerfully at the suits. "How invisible are we going to have to get?" he asked out of the side of his mouth.

 _Don't think Vegas has got enough bandages._

* * *

Terry's office at the Mirage had a few more pot-plants than the one at the Bellagio. As Danny and he were ushered into seats, Rusty said so.

Danny looked round at them thoughtfully. "Maybe it's to go with the desert theme."

"Palm trees and-"

"-Mirage and-"

"Have you got any camels in here?" Rusty asked, glancing round.

Terry's lips thinned. He leaned across the desk.

"I didn't invite you here so that you could comment on interior design."

"Why did you invite us, Terry?"

"You looking for a bridge four?" Danny asked.

"Because you're still a man short."

"We could call Reuben-"

"-he's not that short, though."

"You OK, Terry?"

"He doesn't look OK."

"Have we seen that colour before?"

"Nah, that was taupe. This is more puce."

Terry's hand slammed down on the desk.

"I don't know why you're in town but I want to make something perfectly clear. If you so much as breathe in the vicinity of one of my casinos, my men are instructed to bring you to me. If you so much as set foot inside one of my casinos, my men are instructed to discipline you both first. I believe discipline is something you both lack. Do we understand or do you have any more wisecracks you'd like to share with me?"

 _You think we should…_

 _Doubt he'd see the funny side._

Fun though it was to bait him, Terry was one complication they could do without.

Danny exhaled slowly. "We're staying with Reuben. We don't anticipate troubling _you_ , Terry."

Terry stared at him looking for the truth and Danny offered it up as absolute.

"See that it stays that way," Terry said by way of dismissal and they got to their feet.

 _We really going to let it go at that?_

"Seriously, think about the camels," Rusty advised as they reached the door.

"You could serve tea at the same time," Danny suggested. "One hump-"

"-or two."

"You should consider taking the vaudeville act on tour," Terry said, not looking up from his desk. "Just don't bring it into my casinos."

* * *

The suits escorted them across the lobby and out of the front door and they walked slowly back down the Strip towards the Midas, weaving in and out of the crowds until they were sure they weren't being followed.

"Well, we always like a challenge," Danny mused.

"Yeah…"

Rusty sounded blissfully unfazed.

Danny raised an eyebrow. He knew that tone of voice. "Alright. What do you know that I don't?"

"Passed a housekeeping trolley in the corridor."

Danny nodded. They had.

"Saw the hotel maid in charge of it."

"Someone we know?"

"Looked awfully like Rachel."

It took a moment and then Danny's face broke into a smile. "We're-"

"-going to see Jo-Jo."

* * *

Jo-Jo Martin lived a little way back from the Strip in an unfashionable part of Vegas.

"Suppose she could have moved," Rusty said helpfully as they stood on the doormat and Danny reached up to ring the bell.

Danny shot him a look and pressed the bell.

Rusty shrugged. "Just thinking out loud."

"You couldn't have thought it before we walked all this-"

The door opened and there was a squeal and they found themselves enveloped in a fierce hug all the more powerful for being delivered by a petite woman.

"Come on in, boys," Jo-Jo said, her face alight with happiness. "Oh, you've made my evening!"

They sat on the dilapidated couch and Jo-Jo fussed around them with drinks and helpings of Mississippi Mud Pie. Rusty let out a happy little noise and Danny grinned.

"Think you've just made _Rusty's_ evening. How've you been keeping, Jo-Jo?"

"Just fine," Jo-Jo said, sinking down into an easy chair. She gave them both a stern look. "Don't think I don't know where all that money came from. I worked it out."

"Worked what out?" Rusty asked innocently.

"After Terry Bene-" Jo-Jo paused and her voice dropped to a loud whisper, "after _certain_ hotels were robbed…I had this package full of money arrive. I know it was you two. That's what the uniforms were for, weren't they? I knew it was for something wonderful and brilliant. Oh, you _boys_ …"

There was exasperation in there and fondness too.

"Well, Jo-Jo, we couldn't comment-"

"-couldn't _possibly_ comment but-"

"-we hope you did something fun with the cash."

"Oh, we did! I run classes now out of the old McCall Revue Club. Do you know that learning about burlesque is this huge craze? Who knew that I could make money teaching it?"

"Who knew?" Danny said softly.

"And Rachel…" The happy drained away from Jo-Jo's face and she swallowed hard. "I never wanted her to dance. Just that we always had this plan that she'd go to college and well, dancing pays."

She raised her chin as if daring them to say something. When neither of them did and all she got back was understanding, she gave a little shake of her head.

"I made sure I worked the same club as her. You know…just in case…" She shook her head again. "Well, that's all changed-"

The front door opened and a good-looking young woman walked in, pulling the pins from her hair and dropping a set of house-keys on the side.

"My feet are killing me!" she complained. "I swear I need to start demanding health insurance."

"Rachel," Jo-Jo began, "we have-"

Rachel interrupted her with a cry of unexpected joy. "Rusty! Danny!"

Danny and Rusty started to struggle up off the all-enveloping couch but Rachel waved them back down and then _sashayed_ over – they would both agree later that it was truly a sashay – bent over each of them in turn and pressed her lips to their cheeks before straightening back up.

"I see Mom's looking after you." Rachel gestured at the dishes of dessert as she perched on the arm of Jo-Jo's chair. She smiled at Rusty. "I _thought_ I saw you earlier at the hotel."

"Really?" Jo-Jo asked, surprise in her voice. "Are you staying at the Mirage?"

"No," Rusty said slowly.

"Then...ah…" Jo-Jo exhaled slowly. "Of course. Another job." A lop-sided smile appeared on her face. "You want some more clothes altering?"

"Well, actually," Danny glanced at Rachel, "we were wondering what you were doing there."

"I was working," came the reply.

Nowhere visible, nowhere that Jo-Jo or Rachel would ever see, there was disappointment. She was working for Terry Benedict? Somehow, dancing as Charmaine at the Crazy Horse Two seemed a lot more wholesome. Maybe Jo-Jo sensed what they were feeling.

"It's just during vacation," she explained, adding proudly, "Rachel's studying to be a radiographer."

"Final year," Rachel nodded. "Got exams next semester and I should be revising but Martha was desperate. She left the Crazy Horse a year or so back and went to work at the Mirage. She's running Housekeeping now and this fortnight they've been really struggling for cover and so..."

"And so you're helping her out," Rusty finished.

"And I bet you want me to help you out too," Rachel said shrewdly. "You got another IT technician you want me to entertain?"

"No!" Jo-Jo said vehemently, starting to rise out of the chair. "You're not-!"

"She's not," Danny said quickly.

"Not on the table," Rusty confirmed.

Jo-Jo sank back down again, consternation in her face but willing to trust, willing to listen.

"We just want to get the low-down on one of the hotel's long-term residents," Danny explained.

"There's a suite and we'd like to get a look inside. When are you on shift again?"

"Tomorrow morning." Rachel grinned. "You want to borrow my uniform and trolley?"

Rusty grinned back. "Tempting."

"Maybe just the pass-key," Danny suggested.

"That it?" Rachel sounded disappointed. "I could plant a camera or a bug or something."

"You most certainly could not!" Jo-Jo retorted firmly before either of them could dare take her daughter up on her offer. Both Danny and Rusty opened their mouths to deny that they were planning on leading Rachel into a life of crime but Jo-Jo spoke first. "You can't but I can."

"Jo-Jo-"

"-that's not necessary."

"We don't want-"

"But _I_ want," Jo-Jo said earnestly. "I want to help. And it would be so much easier for me to wear a uniform and slip into the room than you two. After Terry Benedict was rob- after _that,_ you can't tell me there aren't wanted posters all over the place with your faces on."

"Yes," Rachel agreed quickly, "Mom's right. No one's going to look twice at a maid going into a room. And I could be outside with the trolley to cover."

Jo-Jo's eyes were full of _let me_ and _it would be a way to thank you properly._ "It's just a small thing," she added persuasively. "Please."

They didn't have to look at one another to run through all the arguments for and against involving Jo-Jo and Rachel to a bigger degree than planned.

"Alright," Danny said eventually and both women gave an identical little squeal of excitement. "What time are you on shift tomorrow, Rachel?"

"6.00am."

"OK. Be in the Croesus Suite of the Midas an hour before."

"We'll have breakfast waiting," Rusty added.

"Better be on time then," Jo-Jo laughed. "I don't expect it will be waiting for long."

* * *

Reuben had laid on dinner in a private dining-room at the Midas.

"Steak and fries with friends," Reuben said happily as Dominic deftly laid the plates down in front of them. He topped up Livingston's glass of wine despite the _"No, I'm really fine"._ "Life doesn't get better than this."

Reuben looked round, the curiosity alive and burning in him. "So you gonna tell me what this is all about now?"

It was really Livingston's tale to tell but one glance at the sudden flush suffusing Livingston's face told Danny that he wasn't going to be comfortable sharing the whole story. Livingston shot Danny a silent plea to help him out.

"Alright. There's a con going on that's operated through a website offering up dreams coming true to people who are desperate," Danny began. "Looks like one of its offices is here in Vegas."

He looked at Livingston who gave him a grateful nod and continued.

"They've got three bases of operation – one in Vegas like Danny said, one in Los Angeles and another in San Francisco. They've buried everything very deeply but they're all linked." Livingston licked his lips. "I'm pretty sure that this is the main one. And if we can get to the source, we can wipe out everything."

Rusty waved a forkful of steak. "We've got a way in."

"Going to be an early start," Danny told them. "Five o'clock."

"Five o'clock?" Reuben pulled a face.

"Early bird-"

"-catches the bagels," Rusty finished solemnly.

Reuben stared at them shrewdly. "And how does Terry Benedict come into all this?"

Danny shook his head. "Like we said, Terry doesn't feature."

"Then why did he want to talk to you earlier?"

"Terry Benedict?" Livingston dropped his knife and fork.

Rusty made a small noise of exasperation and Danny frowned then his brow cleared. He looked up at Dominic steadily pouring a glass of red wine for him.

"You're sure you don't work for the CIA, Dominic?"

"I'm quite certain, Mr Danny."

"CIA's got nothing on Dominic's network," Reuben chuckled. "So. Terry…?"

Danny glanced at Rusty who shrugged. Yeah. Reuben wasn't going to leave it.

"Terry just wondered why we were in town."

"We shot the breeze a little."

"Told him we weren't here for him."

"Do you think he believed you?" Livingston quavered.

"I'd be disappointed if he did," Danny said truthfully.

"But it's OK, Livingston," Rusty said between mouthfuls. "We can work with it."

"How?" Reuben asked, interested.

Danny smiled. "Like this."

* * *

Jo-Jo and Rachel were on time the next morning.

"It's alright. There's still some food left," Danny told them as he opened the door to the suite.

"Did Rusty oversleep?" Jo-Jo asked, pulling off her coat and dropping it on a chair.

"Or is he not feeling well?" Rachel added, following suit.

They were both dressed in neat little uniforms and Jo-Jo did a twirl for Danny's benefit who nodded approval and waved them towards the table weighed down with a selection of breakfast.

"So this is RT's joint now," Jo-Jo said, looking round as she helped herself to a croissant.

"S'impressive," Rachel nodded through mouthfuls of pain au chocolat.

"You know back in the day, the Xanadu was the coolest place to hang out," Jo-Jo said.

"Oh, yeah," Danny agreed.

"Wasn't nice to see him squeezed out of there. I'm pleased things have worked out for him. RT's one of the good guys."

"That's for sure," Danny nodded. "Not many like Reuben left."

Livingston and Rusty chose that moment to arrive clutching boxes of equipment and both women got to their feet.

"Hey," Rusty smiled, putting down the box he was carrying and heading to the table. "You're here. This is Livingston Dell," he introduced. "Livingston, this is Jo-Jo Martin and her-"

Jo-Jo coughed loudly.

"-and Rachel Martin," Rusty finished smoothly.

"My pleasure. You're sisters?" Livingston enquired, awkwardly clutching the box but still managing to shake both their hands.

Rachel rolled her eyes and Jo-Jo giggled. Rusty buried his smile in a newly-acquired bagel.

"OK." Danny called them all to attention. "Rachel and Jo-Jo, you're sure you want to do this?"

"Oh, yes," they chorused, both looking thrilled.

Danny's gaze met Rusty's.

 _It's not all fun and games._

 _Since when?_

 _Rus…_

"Very well. Livingston here is going to wire you ladies up."

"It's not painful," Rusty assured them.

"And you're in good hands. Livingston's our go-to guy for surveillance."

Livingston blushed and said hurriedly, "I've got the cameras and the microphones. They're very small and discreet and they should pick up everything he says and does."

He busied himself readying the equipment.

"Who he?" Jo-Jo asked interestedly.

"It's better if you don't-"

"I can access the guest directory at any time," Rachel said matter-of-factly.

There was a slight pause and then, "Drew Honeywell," Rusty replied.

Jo-Jo blinked. "Drew's not a he, he's a she. I mean she's a she."

Danny and Rusty looked at her.

"You're-"

"Oh, I'm sure. She comes to my classes. I've seen her fan dance."

Danny and Rusty exchanged a look.

 _Huh._

 _He's a she._

"Is she…so she's…? I guess I'm going to lose a customer, aren't I?" Jo-Jo looked at their faces and gave a heavy sigh. "Good thing I've got a waiting list."

"Jo-Jo, you shouldn't go near the suite if Drew knows you," Danny frowned. "If she sees you-"

"No problem," Jo-Jo said quickly. "I'm there helping my daughter out. What a coincidence. What a surprise."

"I suppose..."

"If you'll come over here, Jo-Jo…Rachel…" Livingston beckoned them to one side of the room.

"He's a she," Rusty repeated.

"Wasn't obvious from the hotel paperwork, was it?"

Rusty muttered, "Think I'm getting sloppy."

Danny looked at him askance. "That a statement or do you want an opinion?"

"Depends on the opinion."

"I'd still pick you for my team."

Rusty looked minorly comforted.

"And I won't tell Saul," Danny offered innocently.

Rusty glared at him and Danny cleared his throat. "How's it going, Livingston?"

"Fine, just fine. The ladies are all sorted." Livingston gave Jo-Jo and Rachel a shy smile.

"We know what to do," Rachel declared breezily.

"Listen to me. This isn't a game and we don't want you hurt," Danny told them. "The very first sign that something's not right and you get out of there. We can find other ways to do this and you two are more important than the job."

"We'll be careful," Jo-Jo promised and Rachel nodded furiously.

Danny gave them a gentle smile. "Alright, then. Come back here once your shift's over. Look after yourselves."

The women gave him identical grins of enthusiasm and disappeared. Danny sighed. No hope of getting them to take this seriously.

Livingston unfolded the large screen. "Ready for your close-ups?"

"Always, Mr DeMille," Rusty nodded.

* * *

Martha, in charge of Housekeeping at the Mirage, remembered Jo-Jo from the Crazy Horse and had absolutely no problem with her helping out.

"Oh, thank crap," she sighed with relief. "There's just so much to _do_."

There was indeed. Before they could get anywhere near Drew Honeywell's suite or any of the other rooms, there were the function rooms to clear up. It was gone eight before they collected a house-keeping cart and headed off to the residential floors.

"We going straight there?" Jo-Jo whispered.

" _You don't have to whisper."_

Rusty's voice was loud in their ears. They both jumped.

Rachel raised her sleeve to her mouth.

"Have you been there the whole time?" she asked accusingly.

" _Not all the time."_ Danny was full of assurance. _"We had some stuff to do and now we have-"_

" _-some pastries to eat-"_

" _-some coffee to drink-"_

"Some more pastries to eat?" Rachel murmured.

" _Let us know when you get to Drew's place."_

"It'll be a while yet," Rachel said. "We've got a couple of floors to do first. Livingston said nothing out of the usual."

" _That's right."_ Livingston seemed pleased she'd remembered. _"Just keep calm and act natural. You're doing amazing."_

Jo-Jo smiled and caught sight of the answering smile on her daughter's face. Livingston sure was a sweet guy and he certainly knew his stuff. She could see why Danny and Rusty chose to work with him. Added to which, he hadn't even tried to cop a feel when he was wiring them both up. That made for a real gentleman in her book.

"Come on," Rachel said to her. "While they're eating and drinking, we've got work to do. Speak to you later, guys."

* * *

Drew Honeywell's suite was near the end of the corridor. Jo-Jo knocked politely on the door.

"Room service," she announced brightly.

Silence.

Jo-Jo exchanged a look with Rachel and then used the master key to open the door. There was no one inside.

"I won't be long," she promised, picking up the little basket of cleaning cloths and materials and concealed gadgetry.

"I'll keep watch," Rachel said. "If anyone comes, I'll knock the bubble baths and body lotions flying. That'll hold them up."

Jo-Jo smiled and then went into the room, feeling all _Girl from U.N.C.L.E._.

"I'm in," she said casually to Livingston.

" _Great."_ Livingston sounded like he was beaming. _"Turn on the penlight I gave you and show me the room. OK. Now take the little cameras and mics and place them where I tell you."_

She worked quickly to site the visual and the audio, providing Livingston with clear sight and sound of the suite.

" _That's it, Jo-Jo. Excellent work."_

She felt herself flush at the praise and the warmth in Livingston's voice.

"Oh, it's nothing." It wasn't nothing. It was _fun._ Jo-Jo looked around and sighed. "Now I suppose I'd better tidy the room."

* * *

By the time their shift ended and they made their way back to the Midas, Martha's gratitude ringing in their ears, they found Livingston alone with a veritable television studio.

"Wow." Jo-Jo's eyes were wide as Livingston let them in. She took in the cameras and the screens and the recorders. "This all looks so complicated."

"Oh, it's…" Livingston reddened. "It's not, really." He swallowed. "It's all in the cabling, you know."

Jo-Jo nodded furiously.

Rachel shook her head and walked up to one of the screens showing Drew's empty suite and studied it. "So have you seen anything yet?"

"Yes. It's all been very useful. All very useful indeed." Livingston cleared his throat. "Danny and Rusty have been held up a little bit but they wanted me to thank you-"

"They aren't here?" Rachel said disappointedly.

"They're off doing something amazing, aren't they?" Jo-Jo's eyes were shining. "Oh, this is so exciting!"

Livingston made a tiny noise that might have been a _"huh"_ and then shook himself. "They wanted to thank you- _I_ want to thank you. Here." He held out two envelopes. "Spa day here at the Midas. The works. And a meal afterwards."

"You shouldn't have," Jo-Jo began.

"Thanks," Rachel said, taking both envelopes. "Anytime."

"You've really helped," Livingston said.

"We were happy to," Jo-Jo told him.

"And you did a great job."

His voice was soft and he wasn't looking at both of them.

Rachel gave an impatient cough. "So these are all Drew's room." She waved a hand at a handful of screens. "What are all these about?"

* * *

They'd set the hares running – everything was wireless and so much easier than constructing an Ella Fitzgerald had been years ago. Now they were standing where they'd stood two years back, discussing the intricacies and impossibilities of the job and women. Not necessarily in that order.

Rusty squinted over his shoulder to check the angle. "Little to the left."

Danny shuffled along obligingly. They both stared hard through their sunglasses and then Danny spotted it: a well-hidden camera training its slow-blinking red light on them. Rusty worked his way round to its blindspot then reached down and disconnected the wire.

"That should bring them out to play."

Rusty hesitated. "You're just going to do a recce, right?"

Danny looked at him. Hard.

Rusty didn't back down. "Don't want to have to come get you."

 _I want you safe._ The unspoken words floated between them. Danny's eyes softened.

"Just keep yourself and Livingston out of trouble. Don't make me have to co-opt Reuben for a rescue mission."

Rusty grinned. He could hear the _Right back at you_ loud and clear.

* * *

Terry was having a good day over at the Bellagio. Takings were up across all three casinos, he'd just poached a hot new chef from one of his rivals and the redecoration of the fifth floor at the MGM Grand was complete ahead of schedule. And now he'd just put the phone down on his stockbroker who'd had nothing but good news about his portfolio. If he had been in the habit of humming contentedly to himself, that would be absolutely what he was doing.

He permitted himself to stretch comfortably in his chair. This was what success looked like. This was what men aspired to. That run in with those imbeciles yesterday just demonstrated the point. They were yesterday men. Oh, they were clever at what they did, no doubt, but whilst they were charging round the world, risking life and limb to chase the Yankee Dollar, other, smarter men were sitting back in leather chairs and letting the money come to them.

The good mood lasted right up until the deferential knock and Walsh's worried face peering round the office door.

* * *

"You're sure?" Terry said for possibly the fifth time.

"Sure as we can be, Mr Benedict."

Terry stared hard at the CCTV images. It was them. Undoubtedly them. He didn't need to ask a sixth time. He couldn't believe it. After the time he'd taken to explain to them in person the consequences for taking him on again. After the restraint he'd shown in not pre-emptively introducing them to men who would hurt them merely because it was his whim. He glared at Ocean and Ryan as they moved furtively along the corridors of the Bellagio before disappearing into an elevator.

"Are they staying here? Which room did they visit? Where did they go?" He snapped the questions out in wildfire fashion.

Walsh gave him a hapless look. "They never came out of the elevator, sir."

Terry turned and stared at him. "They _what?"_

* * *

Back at the Midas, Rusty stared thoughtfully at the trays full of food piled outside of the door to the Croesus Suite and then knocked carefully on the door.

Rachel appeared in the doorway, beaming first at him and then at the food.

"Pizza's arrived," she called over her shoulder. "So's Rusty," she added, helping him carry in the trays.

"You're…"

"Still here," Jo-Jo nodded, taking a tray out of his arms. "We wanted to stay for lunch. Where's Danny?"

"He's gone to see a man about a warehouse," Rusty said. He shot an enquiring look at Livingston who gave a helpless gesture.

"They wanted to stay."

"This is the most fun we've had in an age," Jo-Jo assured him. "Nothing out of the ordinary ever happens to us. Unless you count the occasional mix up with deliveries. Like yesterday when I was expecting a carton of dry ice grenades. For effects, you know? Moving through the smoke."

She took a few deliberate steps. Dancer's steps. Rusty heard a little intake of breath and smiled to himself. Jo-Jo still had it.

"I'm glad we provided a diversion," he said.

"Oh, we're _very i_ nterested in all this." Rachel waved a hand at the screens.

"Livingston been explaining?" Rusty crooked an amused eyebrow.

Livingston gave an embarrassed shrug. "Little bit."

"He said you were out feeding rabbits-"

"Feeding _a_ rabbit-"

"-to _some_ one," Rachel finished.

"And before you say anything, we're going to stay right here and keep quiet," Jo-Jo said, sitting down on the couch with a plate of pizza.

"Not do anything rash," Rachel put in, joining her. "Not interfere or anything."

Rusty sighed inwardly in the face of the inevitable. "Alright. Up until I say it isn't." He inspected a pizza. "Apart from spicy beef and green chilli, what have we got?"

"We've got sight and sound," Livingston said. "Jo-Jo and Rachel did a fine job."

Both women giggled.

"How's the White Rabbit working?" Rusty asked, in between mouthfuls of pizza.

"It's…chaos," Livingston declared, checking the monitors showing Terry Benedict's casinos. "He's chasing down every sighting."

"Good. That'll keep him-"

"-occupied," Livingston finished.

"-pissed off," Rusty corrected. He turned to the screens showing Drew Honeywell's suite. "And what about Drew?"

"She's been back. She made a couple of calls. She got a laptop out of the safe, did some work and put it back in the safe along with a hunk of money. Got the combination." Livingston waved a piece of paper.

That would be cleaner. Quicker. Good.

"She's got a lunch date – that was one of the calls – and she headed out. That was…well…just before you came in."

"So we've got a window." Rusty gave the rest of the pizza a regretful look. "I guess we'd better use it."

He turned to Jo-Jo and Rachel. "And this is where we say goodbye, ladies."

"Oh, but…"

The protest died on Rachel's lips as she saw Rusty's implacable face and Jo-Jo nodded disappointed acceptance.

"It's been a blast," she said, getting to her feet.

"But I want to know how it ends," Rachel pleaded.

"A phonecall would be nice. You know my number, right? 555-1711," Jo-Jo said, adding hesitantly, "or a visit even? One of you or all of you…?"

Time was ticking.

"Be in touch before we leave Vegas," Rusty promised.

"I'll hold you to that. Make sure you come by," Jo-Jo nodded. "Come on, Rachel. We're in their way now. "

She shepherded her reluctant daughter out of the room and Rusty exhaled slowly. That felt like it could have been so much more of an argument. He turned to Livingston.

"Ready?"

Livingston was staring after the pair of them. He blinked a couple of times and then smiled at Rusty. "No, but let's go anyway?"

* * *

Crane had called. They'd been spotted at the MGM Grand as well, disappearing round a corner and through a set of double doors and then turning up a few minutes later on another floor entirely.

Terry's face was a thundercloud. They'd robbed him, they'd cheated him, they made him feel… He wasn't going to think about how they made him feel. He had a very secure sense of self and he refused to let two idiot criminals persuade him otherwise.

Walsh was babbling something about security going door by door to investigate. Terry waved an impatient hand. He needed to think. Tishkoff. Tishkoff would have answers. They'd said they were staying with him and that at least rang true.

"Have Lewis bring my car round," he ordered, "I'm going over to the Midas. And have the floors checked by the time I get back again."

He strode through the hotel lobby without his customary small talk to the employees. Small talk could wait. He stood outside on the Bellagio steps and waited for Lewis to arrive, walking down to the sidewalk where taxis were pulling up and disgorging passengers. This needed to be resolved. He wouldn't sleep easy tonight unless he knew the intentions of Ocean and Ryan and whoever else from their band of merry men was in town.

* * *

They were partway to the Midas when the traffic started to slow down with the inevitability of a spinning roulette wheel, finally coming to a complete standstill. Sitting in the back of the car, Terry leaned forward, impatiently trying to identify the hold up and then when he couldn't, sat back again, frustrated. Every second he was held up here, those two could be robbing him blind.

A random glance out of the window made him sit bolt upright. That was Ocean. That was Ocean stood right there in that sidestreet. And then in the blink of an eye, Ocean disappeared into a building. Terry stared after him and made his mind up.

"Take the car back, Lewis."

"Sir?"

"I'll go on from here alone. I'll call when I need collecting."

Terry climbed out of the car and slipped through the stationary traffic, heading towards the place where he had seen Ocean vanish. Enough of the smoke and mirrors. He was going to get to the bottom of this. If he walked into this building and found a replica of one of his vaults… He would crush them all. He would take matters into his own hand and he would…

Incoherent thoughts of furious, glorious revenge running through him, Terry yanked the handle open and strode inside, ready to confront Ocean and his hangers-on.

* * *

A beefy guy had turned up to fix the camera at the fountains and Danny had trailed said beefy guy back from the fountains to this non-descript building just off the Strip. He'd given him a long leash and then studied the ways of entry and found the slightly ajar sidestreet door.

Somewhere, he could see Rusty rolling his eyes but he didn't care. They needed to make sure they'd covered all angles. After they'd taken care of the website, there was still this place and the people and they needed to make sure they dealt with this side of the operation. Besides. He still knew when and how to run.

Inside and he moved carefully amongst the dust and the dirt and boxes, looking for the best vantage point. An inner door swung open and Danny melted behind a pillar as two guys emerged who had the word "Enforcer" invisibly tattooed on their foreheads. Seemed like Drew kept herself well-protected. The guys stopped to light up a cigarette, talking in low voices and Danny's attention was on the door. Looked like that was where things got interesting. All he needed was-

The hair prickled on the back of Danny's neck. He span around helplessly as Terry's self-assured tone snapped out crisply.

"So what's the plan, Ocean?"

He couldn't shush him. Terry wouldn't have listened. He couldn't even run. Terry was between him and the way out and Terry didn't look like moving any time soon. Danny stared at him and allowed himself a brief grimace at the inevitable "Hey!" from one of the heavies and the sound of a safety-catch being released. With a baleful glance at Terry, Danny slowly raised his hands.

* * *

Drew was a busy woman. Wherever they sat on the spectrum of legality, successful operations did not run themselves. Having to cancel lunch with a promising business lead just to sort out some drama at the warehouse…honestly. She deserved to have a right-hand man to manage these kind of things.

Inwardly scowling, she strode through the door and found two men kneeling, hands on their heads and guns at their temples. One of them was unknown eye candy. Busy being the strong and silent type. The other…oh, she recognised him. King of his little empire the way she was queen of hers. And there was nothing silent about him.

"Don't you know who I am?" Benedict was full of threat, blustering at her men. "I will crucify you. You think I'm joking? You want to call my bluff?"

Benedict hadn't even noticed her entrance. The other man had. He was watching her intently as if he knew exactly where the power in the room lay. Interesting. Drew's gaze flicked back to Benedict.

"You are making the biggest-"

"-mistake of my life," she finished wearily and Benedict's head snapped round to stare at her. "Yada, yada, yada. What's the story?"

"Found them sneaking around, boss. Called you."

"It's a misunderstanding, that's all." A rich, silky voice spoke, rippling across the space between them, and she looked down into a pair of dark eyes that… The voice was speaking again.

"My friend and I…" ( _had she imagined that infinitesimal pause before the word "friend"?_ ) "we were just passing by and thought we heard an animal trapped in here. Sounded like it couldn't get out. We didn't mean to disturb anything and we certainly don't want any trouble."

Oh, he was _good…_ With that voice, she'd believe these weren't the droids she was looking for. Still.

"An animal?" she repeated, crouching down in front of him. "That's all you've got? You want to tell me the truth?"

"Why do you think I'm lying?" The eyes were full of amusement. "It's not like we were trying to be quiet. Ask your men."

Her men didn't contradict him. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, not really believing but maybe there was some misunderstanding. Benedict was an unlikely candidate to be personally breaking and entering.

"You can stop the charade." Benedict had been quiet for less than two minutes and was clearly desperate to regain the focus of her attention. "This man is a convicted criminal, a con artist, a thief…I know that you're working with him. I know that this is directed at me. I know-"

She slapped him. Hard. Benedict's eyes widened with indignation.

"You talk too much." Drew straightened up and stared down at Obi-Wan Dark Eyes who wasn't giving anything away. "But if he's right about you…"

No harm in checking. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialled, her eyes not leaving Dark and Interesting. "Henderson? I want you to check out the suite. Take Matthews and Lonnie with you and let me know if anything's awry. Awry. A-W…" She sighed. "Out of the ordinary."

She hung up and shook her head. "What's wrong with people's vocabulary these days?"

"What're we doing with these two, ma'am?"

"Well, we're going to wait until Henderson calls me back. To see if there was a trapped animal or not. If everything's sweet and innocent, you gentlemen can go on your way. If it isn't…we can have an uncomfortable conversation."

Dark Eyes held her gaze and she was reading bravery and strength to go alongside the charisma. Mmm. Saliva flooded her mouth. It had been a while since she'd really enjoyed herself. Peripherally, she saw Benedict open his mouth to complain so she slapped him again.

* * *

Vegas buzzed around them as they sat in the little coffee shop beside the Midas but neither Jo-Jo nor Rachel were feeling it.

Rachel gave a sigh. "It just feels so unfinished."

Jo-Jo nodded gloomily. It did. And she'd tried to be as subtle as she could but something told her that she should have taken the lead because-

"I just want to know how it ends. I mean they were obviously headed out to Drew Honeywell's suite."

Oh. Rachel was talking about… And she was right. The thrill of the con had been heady and enticing and it certainly explained a little more about the mystery that was Danny and Rusty.

Rachel's eyes were suddenly alight. "Maybe we can find out."

"They won't want us anywhere near the Mirage," Jo-Jo warned.

Rachel's smile was wide. "Then let's not go there."

* * *

Rusty checked his phone again but there was still no missed call from Danny. He told himself to stop worrying. All Danny had to do was reconnoitre the base of operations, find the location and then get back to the Midas. He was probably there now, eating cold pizza and watching Livingston use the master key and seeing them step into Drew's room. And he probably wasn't calling because that would be in no way professional. Rusty sighed to himself. Old habits died hard.

Livingston had opened the safe and was busy with the laptop.

"How long?"

"Just…one…moment...there." Livingston closed the lid of the computer. "That'll wreck their main databases. Take them forever to try and rebuild operations."

"Time to move," Rusty murmured and then stood bolt upright, his head twisting in the direction of the corridor, straining to hear again what he thought he'd heard already. Yep. Footsteps with purpose.

He snatched the laptop from Livingston and pushed it back in the safe, then on impulse, he reached in further and grabbed a bundle of money. Time to move indeed.

* * *

Livingston was not at all clear what was happening but with one fluid movement, Rusty had pulled him to his feet, spun round and yanked the closet door open.

"Inside," he said tersely, ushering Livingston in.

"But-"

"Stay quiet," Rusty told him, his eyes fierce and blue.

Livingston opened his mouth to protest further but shut it again and did what Rusty said. Just the same as any other job. Rusty called the shots and if there was trouble, then…Livingston swallowed. Then, it would be up to him.

It was dark in the closet. Livingston pressed his ear to the door. He could hear murmurs of voices – a couple of deep rumbles and a lighter, carefree note of insouciance that was trademark Rusty – and he ought to be helping, he ought to be out there shoulder to shoulder with Rusty, he shouldn't let Rusty face this on his own… He took a deep breath and braced himself, ready to kick the door open. Maybe he would have the element of surprise.

He took another deep breath and then he kicked hard. The door remained resolutely shut. Panting, Livingston stared in disbelief. He kicked again. Nothing. He listened. There was silence outside. That…that wasn't good… Desperately, he kicked again, harder, and again. Nothing.

"Rus?" he called, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice. "Rusty?"

There was only silence.

* * *

Henderson had called. Drew had answered. Danny watched her face as she did so and sighed inwardly. Something had gone awry alright.

"Benedict, you should be worried about your hotel's reputation," Drew said but it wasn't Terry she was looking at. "There's been a break in at the Mirage. That leads me to think that this is not an unconnected incident."

"What do we do, ma'am?"

Drew smiled a little too brightly, a little too unblinkingly and Danny felt the shiver running down his spine. He'd seen that look before and it never boded well.

* * *

There had been guns and a little friendly persuasion and that was OK because Rusty wanted to get the heavies the hell out of there and away from the suite, away from Livingston, away from the magic that Livingston was currently working on the server.

Outside the room and now he needed to keep these guys away from innocent people and that meant spotting the opportunity to run and the only thing stopping that was that there was simply no opportunity. The Vegas crowds were busy and Terry's hotels were popular and Drew's people were efficient.

The van was waiting and now he tried to struggle because he was running out of time but the cold gun barrel was underneath his jacket, underneath his shirt, digging into his flesh and as the van door closed on him, he realised escape was now purely theoretical.

A short drive and then he was hauled out into bright sunlight and hustled into a warehouse. No chance to make a break for it, no arguing with the muscle. And now escape was even more of an abstract concept.

Drew was waiting for them. At least, he assumed it was Drew from the air of command and control and the immediate deference from the henchmen. He studied her critically. The overwhelming impression was of intelligence, curiosity and impatience. She was not one to suffer fools gladly.

"Henderson says you were in my hotel suite," she said. "I don't remember inviting you."

"Found this on him, ma'am." Henderson handed over the bundle of notes to Drew.

She stared at the money and then at Rusty's face. He kept his expression blank but slightly shifty so that she could read the guilt he wasn't trying to hide. Let her think this was an opportunistic theft. Let her think he was working alone. Let her think-

"Uh huh. Bet you heard a trapped animal as well," she muttered inexplicably.

A what already? Rusty's eyebrows shot up in spite of themselves.

"Put him with the other two."

Other _two?_ Rusty's mind was racing. Other one was bad enough because that was the obvious answer for the lack of phone call but had they found Livingston as well? Or had Reuben gotten involved somehow? Or…

He wasn't easily surprised. Even walking back into the poker game from hell to find Danny waiting for him hadn't elicited a reaction visible to onlookers (unless you counted Danny which he didn't). He had to say though that walking in to a room to find Terry handcuffed naked to a chair opposite an equally naked, equally handcuffed Danny was up there with his top ten startling things. He had to ask.

 _How..?_

Danny gave the headroll shrug that translated as annoyance beyond belief.

"Strip him off and cuff him," Drew instructed, pointing to a third chair. "Then we can have a cosy little chat."

* * *

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Livingston sat on the floor of the closet and felt all the inadequacies of high school wash over him. If only he'd been a jock instead of a nerd, he'd have broken his way out of there with one almighty smash. But then if he'd been a jock, Rusty wouldn't have felt the need to protect him.

No. No, that was unfair. Rusty would feel the need to protect anyone on the team. Danny would too. That was just the way they were. That was why he liked them so much. One of the reasons, anyway, up there with how they treated him like he was part of the team not a means to an end…up there with the fact that they always had intriguing jobs and that they asked him and didn't just expect…up there with the fact that part of him had known they would help him with this even before he'd mentioned it.

Miserably, he stared at the resolutely closed closet door and sighed. He'd tried phoning Danny but it just went to voicemail. He'd tried calling Reuben but his phone was turned off. Didn't look like help was coming any time soon. And he needed help so he could help Rusty. This was down to him. Rusty was in trouble because of him. And when Drew came back to the suite and wanted a change of clothes, _he_ would be in trouble too because there was no way-

He froze. He'd heard a noise in the main room and that meant what exactly? Drew? Some of her heavies? He scrabbled frantically for a weapon because he wasn't going to go down without a fight and got to his feet, ready as he would ever be. And then he heard a soft "Livingston?" The door opened and he blinked up at Jo-Jo's worried face.

"You OK? Hey, it's me, you're alright." Her gaze slid right to the neon pink stiletto he was clutching.

She pulled the shoe from his hand and dropped it on the floor. "So not your colour."

She gave a little smile and he felt his heartbeat slow to somewhere like normal and the sweat stopped trickling down his back and then he felt her squeeze his fingers comfortingly and his heart started another irregular little samba that had nothing to do with fear.

"Thank you," he managed and the little smile grew.

"Rachel's in the corridor keeping a lookout," Jo-Jo said. "We went back to the Midas and we saw what happened. We came as quickly as we could."

Rusty. Drew's men. Right.

"I've got to go after him," he said firmly. Solid oak doors might defeat him but hopefully locating Rusty should be a piece of cake. Even as Jo-Jo was push-pulling him out of the suite, he was already removing the scanner from his pocket and letting it work its magic.

"That going to find him?" Rachel asked with interest as the three of them made their way outside. "How?"

"I put a tracker on Rusty and Danny's phones last Christmas party we went to." A little while back now and it had been less party and more job and the tracker had been to reassure both of them because they were both planning on taking ridiculous risks. "As long as Rusty's still in Vegas, it'll pick him up. It only works over short distances but I don't think Drew's very far away."

As if in answer, the scanner locked on to a steady signal. OK. That was the easy part.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Rachel asked.

"Oh, no." Livingston shook his head. "Not going to happen. You ladies need to leave this up to me."

"But-"

"No buts. This is _dangerous_." His expression was stern and fierce. "Now I'm going to get in touch with Danny and we're going to get Rusty and then we'll head back to the Midas and we'll call you."

He spoke with more hope than conviction because Danny's phone was showing up at the exact same location as Rusty's and call him a pessimist but that was probably a bad sign. Jo-Jo and Rachel didn't need to know that though. They certainly didn't need to be involved and they had to be kept clear of any consequences.

Livingston turned on his heel and moved purposefully towards the signal, hoping that from behind he looked masterful and fearless.

* * *

Drew stood in front of the three men and stared pointedly at their laps. "What? Is no one pleased to see me?"

She grinned. ""So. Who's feeling talkative? Come on…I just want a little chat."

"And we have to be naked for that?" snapped Benedict.

She moved across to Benedict, grabbing his chin. "No, it's just more fun this way. Nudity and handcuffs. You can't tell me it doesn't add a little frisson to proceedings."

Benedict wrenched his chin away and stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. "I _know_ you."

Drew's lips twitched. "Do you want applause?"

She circled behind them slowly and paused to drag a well-manicured nail across Blond and Cute's shoulder. "You feel like explaining why my men found you in my suite with a whole hunk of my money on you?"

Silence. She pushed fingers into his hair and yanked his head back. His eyes were very pretty even upside down. Drew smiled.

"A brave little soldier. My favourite kind."

She moved across to Dark and Interesting and stood behind him, running her hands over his shoulders, feeling his muscles tense, her fingers moving down on to his chest, tangling into the curly dark hair there. Her head rested against his.

"It strikes me that this is not the first time you've been inconvenienced. Are you a man who can handle pain?" She ran the tip of her tongue over the top of his ear. "I do hope so."

Drew straightened up. "Time to get serious, boys. I've got so many questions. You break into my suite, my safe, my warehouse…what's going on? Who put you up to this? Do I need to move? I hope not. I'm very fond of Vegas. Cheap thrills, flash and cash and a truly excellent burlesque teacher. "

She executed a few steps of shimmy and shake and then glanced at Benedict and gave a sigh.

"And where exactly do you fit in? You're a problem, you know. I can't just dispose of you. You're _way_ too public a figure."

"Damn right," Benedict spat. "Let me go now and I'll-"

"Yes, what will you do? That's another question of mine. Because somehow I can't see you letting this lie without some sort of encouragement to do so."

"You thinking of bribing me?" There was a cold sneer in Benedict's voice. "You think money is going to stop me from bringing down all hell on you and yours? You'd better run and keep running and never look back. You'd-"

"Enough!" Exasperation washed over her. "Henderson, shut him up."

Henderson obliged with a large wad of material and Benedict's eyes bulged with rage.

"Thank you. Where was I? Encouragement. Blackmail, if you will. I'm going to have to let you go and make sure that you won't be coming back to see me."

Benedict frowned and Drew grinned.

"Let me tell you what we do here."

She bent down and whispered less than sweet nothings and was rewarded by the look of shock and horror in Benedict's eyes. Yeah. Benedict couldn't fake that reaction. He was here by accident. Maybe he _had_ heard a trapped animal.

"Let's give you an up close and personal tour."

She jerked her head and Henderson and Mitchell both grabbed the back of Benedict's chair, tilting it and dragging it across the floor towards the door to the lab. Drew smiled to herself. This was going to be fun.

"I'll be back for you two later. Don't go anywhere."

* * *

Drew had left behind two guys with guns to keep watch and neither of them looked like they were going to be dissuaded from doing so. Danny crooked an eyebrow in Rusty's direction.

 _You OK?_

 _Yeah._

 _Any give on the cuffs?_

 _Nope. You?_

 _Nope._

 _Great. So what's the-_

A gas puck came suddenly skittering across the floor between their feet. They looked at it and then at each other and automatically took a deep breath before the smoke exploded. There were gasps of surprise and two near-simultaneous thuds that signalled the fall of the guards.

Eyes watering, Danny peered through the haze, trying to see Rusty, trying to make out their rescuer. The gas was thinning now which was just as well because the pressure in his lungs was killing. Years past and he could have held his breath easily but now…damn it, who knew he would have needed to practise this skill? Who knew…

His breath gave out and he took an almighty gulp of air, ridiculously relieved to hear Rusty do so too. Wasn't just him that was getting old.

"Hey, guys."

No surprise on show and no visible relief but the dazzle of their joint smiles showed how very welcome Livingston's arrival was.

"Next time you push me in a closet," Livingston said in a low voice as he worked on Rusty's handcuffs, "please make sure I can open it from the inside."

"I'll take that into consideration," Rusty replied.

"He put you in a closet?" Danny gave Rusty a stern look as the cuffs fell away and Livingston started on Danny's restraints.

"Hey, you put Yen in a bag," Rusty pointed out, rubbing his wrists and reaching for his shirt.

"You put someone in a bag?" Jo-Jo asked, appearing behind Livingston and stopping short, eyes saucer-wide. "Oh, my!"

"Oh, my?" Rachel had followed her mother. "What's- oh, my!"

"Rachel, turn your head away."

"You're kidding, right?" Rachel said incredulously, not averting her gaze an inch.

" _Livingston_ ," Danny said out of the corner of his mouth.

"Sorry, sorry," Livingston apologised, his fingers finally fumbling the handcuffs open.

"You brought them here?" Rusty threw Danny his underwear and pulled on his own. "What were you thinking?"

"We didn't give him a lot of choice," Jo-Jo said, passing Danny his pants and giving Rachel a look of admonishment. "When we rescued him, we kind of insisted we come rescue you two too. We didn't want Livingston to get captured as well."

"You could have been-"

"Well, we weren't," Rachel pointed out. She held up a bag. "Besides. We had the gas grenades."

They stared at the bag and the unspoken question was loud in the air.

"Told you we had a mix up with a delivery," Jo-Jo said cheerfully. "Didn't know it was going to come in so useful."

"Guys," Livingston hissed. "Can we focus on getting out of here?"

"Willingly."

Rusty started to lead the way and went a few steps before stopping short. Danny hadn't moved. Rusty turned towards him.

"What?" Said with the impatience of _why the hell aren't we running?_

Danny screwed his face up in a grimace.

Rusty stared at him for a moment and then let out a little hiss of a sigh. "He's not Marcellus Wallace even if he likes to think he is."

 _Uh huh._

"He's threatened us, double-crossed us, blew up our cars-"

" _Your_ car."

"Exactly."

 _Good point._ "Still."

They stared at each other and the argument was silent but fierce and apologetic all at the same time until it was over. Rusty rolled his eyes.

"Alright. But I want it noted I think this is one of your worst ideas."

"Livingston?" Danny turned to him. "Can you please take Jo-Jo and Rachel out of here?"

"No arguments," he added, voice like steel as he saw the protest rising up in both of them.

* * *

Terry was doing his best to kill with looks alone. Drew's henchmen had half-dragged, half-carried him into what was some kind of laboratory area where three other men were bent over test-tubes. There was a chorus of wolf-whistles as Terry was thrown to the floor, his hands still cuffed behind his back.

He glared up at the men and at Drew who was standing to one side, her hand on her hip.

"He's a good-looking fella," one of the men drawled. "Not like the last bum you brought in."

"The redhead off the street? Yeah, he was an ugly bastard," Drew agreed. She grinned at Terry. "You're going to make much more handsome babies."

Her eyes were bright with amusement and Terry recognised what was happening here. Little bit of cat and mouse. A game that he himself played from time to time. Drawing out the anticipation and stretching nerves to breaking point and it was fine and good when _he_ was doing it but when he was on the receiving end, it felt like hell on earth.

She'd done this before. Oh, maybe her men made contributions or maybe they paid a pittance to those who wanted to earn a quick buck – and there was no shortage of those in Vegas – but every now and then, she had a little fun. Her men picked up someone, probably some drunk who was never going to complain, who was never going to remember properly what happened. And then these _apes…_

"This isn't going to hurt at all," Drew promised, picking up a video camera. "You might as well sit back and enjoy yourself."

Terry's mouth worked furiously against the gag as the chief ape stood over him, beaker in hand.

"You heard the lady, sweetheart," he rumbled, reaching for him.

Terry's eyes congratulated him on the fact he was a dead man. And then smoke filled the room. Coughs exploded all around him. He blinked hard and tried to join in the coughing, straining against the material in his mouth. A hand wrapped around his forearm and instinctively, Terry pulled away but the fingers wouldn't let go.

"On your feet, Terry." Ocean's voice was terse in his ear. "We need to move."

Terry complied at once, his eyes streaming, allowing Ocean to guide him up and out and away from this nightmare, running blindly through the lab.

"This way." Terry couldn't see him but he knew Ryan's voice when he heard it. "Hurry."

He hurried. Straight through a door and into glorious fresh air. The gag was pulled from his mouth and he took a deep, deep breath, forcing oxygen into his lungs. As his head cleared, he found himself staring at Ryan, who pushed Drew's camera into his hands. For a moment, there was a flash of fierce ice-blue primal _something_ and Terry took a step back.

Ocean moved in front of Ryan.

"Here, Terry. Get some pants on."

Automatically, Terry reached for the clothes, his eyes still warily on Ryan but when Ocean moved out of the way, Ryan had his usual impertinent air. Huh. Maybe he'd imagined that something. Hastily, he dressed.

"Just to be clear, this stays between us," Terry said, as they made it back on to the street.

There was a definite snort and what sounded like a soft chuckle.

"Just to be clear, _Terry_ ," Ocean replied, "the police are currently headed here and to the Mirage where you will be affording them every courtesy."

"The Mirage?" Terry said faintly.

"Bad guys-"

"-and girls-"

"-enjoy room service as much as the next man-"

"-or woman."

Sirens were sounding.

"I'd hurry back if I were you," Ryan suggested softly. "Cops like digging."

"Who knows what else they'll find?"

Terry paled and then recovered himself.

"This isn't over," he announced with a defiant snarl as he flagged down a cab.

* * *

They climbed into another cab to head back to the Midas and Rusty sighed. Danny crooked an inquisitive eyebrow.

"It never _is_ over where Terry's concerned," Rusty explained.

Danny nodded thoughtfully. "Well, let's remind him of that."

* * *

Lunch cooked by Dominic, served by Reuben's pool, with Danny, Reuben and Livingston for company. Rusty gave a lazy smile of pure happiness and looked wistfully at the plate in front of him that had once contained amaretto cheesecake.

Livingston had just stepped away to answer his phone and Reuben lit up a Havana.

"You guys should come round more often," Reuben told them. "Vegas misses you."

"Vegas?" Danny checked, raising an eyebrow.

Reuben took a puff on his cigar and made a magnanimous gesture. "Oh, alright, if I gotta say it, _I_ miss you."

 _We should…_

 _...more often._

Reuben gave an emphatic nod. "You should."

Livingston came back to the table and slumped down into his chair.

"You OK, Livingston?" Danny murmured.

"It's Lori. My friend." Livingston blinked hard a couple of times. "She's expecting a baby."

"That's great," Danny smiled warmly.

"Champagne, Dominic!" Reuben called. "Time to celebrate."

As Dominic started to pour the champagne, Livingston's phone rang again and he answered it, still in a daze from Lori's news. "Yes? Oh!"

His face changed, his eyes wide. "Oh. I… Oh, yes! I mean, yes. I-I'd…yes. OK. Yes."

Livingston hung up looking even more dazed.

"Come on," Reuben insisted. "You can't leave us hanging with just "Yes"."

"I've got a date," Livingston said numbly. He looked up at the others. "Jo-Jo."

Danny let out a low, reverent whistle and picked up his glass. "Definitely worth celebrating."

Rusty gave a thoughtful look. "You think she'll wear the outfit-"

"-with the sequins?" Danny paused, considering and then let out another low whistle.

"Exactly," Rusty agreed. He topped up Livingston's glass.

Reuben grinned. "I know the outfit. Livingston's gonna need more than champagne."

He turned to Danny. "You boys heading back straightaway?"

Danny exchanged a glance with Rusty.

"Not _quite_ straightaway."

* * *

After the wild goose chase Ocean and Ryan had led him on and after the… _incident_ …in the warehouse, Terry felt like he had a week's workload to catch up on with priorities aplenty. The good thing was that burying himself in work would mean he didn't have time to think about personal attack and indignity and even worse, being rescued by _them._

"Bailey, I want you to talk to Walsh over at the Bellagio," Terry instructed, pausing outside his office at the Mirage, "He's got a lead on a new supplier of-"

Terry stopped. There had been a distinct snort from inside his office. What the-? He wrenched open the door and then shut it again just as quickly. There had been eyes and teeth and flared nostrils and the _smell…_ Priorities reshuffled themselves.

"Bailey!" Terry roared. "Get that camel out of my office!"

* * *

A/N: If anyone's interested, Jo-Jo and Rachel appear in "The Benedict Job" (chapters 19 and 20) and "Body and Soul" (chapter 32).


End file.
